Prince Zilah | Page 5

brilliant have also been the incursions of Jules
Claretie into the theatrical domain, though he is a better novelist than
playwright. He was appointed director of the Comedie Francaise in
1885. His best known dramas and comedies are: 'La Famille de Gueux,
in collaboration with Della Gattina (Ambigu, 1869); Raymond Lindey
(Menus Plaisirs, 1869, forbidden for some time by French censorship);
Les Muscadins (Theatre Historique, 1874); Un Pyre (with Adrien
Decourcelle, Gymnase, 1874); Le Regiment de Champagne (Theatre

Historique, 1877); Monsieur le Ministre, together with Dumas fils and
Busnach (Gymnase, 1883); and Prince Zilah (Gymnase, 1885).
Some of them, as will be noticed, are adapted to the stage from his
novels. In Le Regiment de Champagne, at least, he has written a little
melodramatically. But thanks to the battles, fumes of powder, muskets,
and cannons upon the stage the descendants of Jean Chauvin accept it
with frenetic applause. In most of the plays, however, he exhibits a
rather nervous talent, rich imagination, and uses very scintillating and
picturesque language, if he is inclined to do so--and he is very often
inclined. He received the "Prix Vitet" in 1879 from the Academy for Le
Drapeau. Despite our unlimited admiration for Claretie the journalist,
Claretie the historian, Claretie the dramatist, and Claretie the art- critic,
we think his novels conserve a precious and inexhaustible mine for the
Faguets and Lansons of the twentieth century, who, while frequently
utilizing him for the exemplification of the art of fiction, will salute
him as "Le Roi de la Romance."
COMPTE D'HAUSSONVILLE de L'Academie Francaise.

PRINCE ZILAH
BOOK 1.
CHAPTER I
THE BETROTHAL FETE
"Excuse me, Monsieur, but pray tell me what vessel that is over there."
The question was addressed to a small, dark man, who, leaning upon
the parapet of the Quai des Tuileries, was rapidly writing in a
note-book with a large combination pencil, containing a knife, a pen,
spare leads, and a paper-cutter--all the paraphernalia of a reporter
accustomed to the expeditions of itinerant journalism.
When he had filled, in his running hand, a leaf of the book, the little

man tore it hastily off, and extended it to a boy in dark blue livery with
silver buttons, bearing the initial of the newspaper, L'Actualite; and
then, still continuing to write, he replied:
"Prince Andras Zilah is giving a fete on board one of the boats
belonging to the Compagnie de la Seine."
"A fete? Why?"
"To celebrate his approaching marriage, Monsieur."
"Prince Andras! Ah!" said the first speaker, as if he knew the name
well; "Prince Andras is to be married, is he? And who does Prince
Andras Zil--"
"Zilah! He is a Hungarian, Monsieur."
The reporter appeared to be in a hurry, and, handing another leaf to the
boy, he said:
"Wait here a moment. I am going on board, and I will send you the rest
of the list of guests by a sailor. They can prepare the article from what
you have, and set it up in advance, and I will come myself to the office
this evening and make the necessary additions."
"Very well, Monsieur Jacquemin."
"And don't lose any of the leaves."
"Oh, Monsieur Jacquemin! I never lose anything!"
"They will have some difficulty, perhaps, in reading the names--they
are all queer; but I shall correct the proof myself."
"Then, Monsieur," asked the lounger again, eager to obtain all the
information he could, "those people who are going on board are almost
all foreigners?"
"Yes, Monsieur; yes, Monsieur; yes, Monsieur!" responded jacquemin,

visibly annoyed. "There are many foreigners in the city, very many;
and I prefer them, myself, to the provincials of Paris."
The other did not seem to understand; but he smiled, thanked the
reporter, and strolled away from the parapet, telling all the people he
met: "It is a fete! Prince Andras, a Hungarian, is about to be married.
Prince Andras Zilah! A fete on board a steamer! What a droll idea!"
Others, equally curious, leaned over the Quai des Tuileries and watched
the steamer, whose tricolor flag at the stern, and red streamers at the
mastheads, floated with gay flutterings in the fresh morning breeze.
The boat was ready to start, its decks were waxed, its benches covered
with brilliant stuffs, and great masses of azaleas and roses gave it the
appearance of a garden or conservatory. There was something highly
attractive to the loungers on the quay in the gayly decorated steamer,
sending forth long puffs of white smoke along the bank. A band of
dark- complexioned musicians, clad in red trousers, black waistcoats
heavily embroidered in sombre colors, and round fur caps, played odd
airs upon the deck; while bevies of laughing women, almost all pretty
in their light summer gowns, alighted from coupes and barouches,
descended the flight of steps leading to